The Sound Of My Soul
by louella
Summary: A short smutty fic prompted by the trailers for Episode 7 of Series 3. What did happen after Gene and Alex's dinner date?


Well that was a bloody shambles. Did she think he'd come down in the last shower? Apparently so, given the way she'd tried to play him. Take me to dinner, Guv. Show me how you treat a woman, Guv. I'll make an effort if you will, Guv. Well, fine. He'd cleaned his teeth, shaved his chin, brushed his hair, worn a clean shirt and through it all he'd known it was for nothing. All for show.

Pouring himself a large measure from the bottle in his sideboard, he pulled the bow tie from around his neck and threw it over the back of the sofa. He drained the glass in one swallow but decided against a refill. He'd put away enough over dinner, didn't need to add a hangover to his list of problems.

Outside his window, the street was quiet, respectable folk already in bed for the night. A couple of lovebirds were illuminated in the orange glow, making their way home, each with a hand in the other's back pocket, wrapped so close they were almost tripping over each other. He watched until they were out of sight.

Sighing, he drew the curtains closed and flopped down on his couch, kicked off his boots and rested his feet on the coffee table. Of course, it hadn't helped that she'd looked so utterly gorgeous he'd worried he might lose his power of speech. He knew why she was there. Knew she'd got some ridiculous notion in her knock-em-dead-beautiful little head that he might have something to do with Sam's death. She thought she had to dress up to the nines and flash her cleavage at him before he'd tell her the truth. Bollocks, of course. All she had to do was ask. Well, ask and sound like she'd believe his answer. He needed her to trust him. If only he could believe she trusted him, he'd tell her everything.

He wiped a hand across his face. After midnight. He wasn't due in the office tomorrow but he'd probably head in anyway. Needed to keep on top of that slimey little turd Keats. Couldn't afford a day off. Better get to bed.

He was already upstairs when he heard the knock. Debated ignoring it - was probably just some kids up to no good - but when someone put their finger on the buzzer and didn't let go, he reluctantly turned around and headed for the front door.

"Bolly."

"Guv. Gene." She'd changed, wasn't in that white thing any more. Something casual, not as much make-up, even her hair looked off duty.

"How'd you find me?"

"I looked you up. I am a detective." His eyes narrowed and she stared at him. "Aren't you going to ask me in?"

After a moment he stood back and opened the door just wide enough for her to walk through. Waved a hand in the direction of his front room, watching her rear as he followed her in.

She looked around, throwing her jacket over the arm of a chair. "Nice place, Gene. I've often wondered."

He wasn't in the mood for small talk. "What do you want, Bolly?"

"Drink would be nice."

Puffing out a breath, he headed for the sideboard and poured amber liquid into a couple of tumblers. The silence was suffocating. He flicked a switch on the stereo before handing her a glass.

She looked at him as she took a sip. He thought he could see uncertainty there, but wasn't sure. He often found her hard to read. He wished it didn't bother him so much.

"Wasn't exactly the ending to the evening I'd been expecting," she said.

His eyebrows rose a fraction but he didn't take the bait. "Chris was acting like an arse. He had it coming."

"I didn't mean about Chris."

"What, then?" He was weary, had had enough. He spoke quietly, without any of the anger and disappointment that he felt. "You thought you'd be able to wrap me around your little finger and worm your way into my head, make me tell you whatever you need to know, before you went swanning back off to wherever it is you seem to want to get to." He turned away and set his glass down on the coffee table. When he stood up she was closer than he expected. A little crease had appeared between her eyebrows. He wanted to wipe it away.

"Why can't you tell me, Gene?"

A pause, then, "How can you believe I would have anything to do with Sam's death?" That was it, in a nutshell. After everything they'd been through, with everything he thought they felt for each other, how could she even ask the question?

Her face wrinkled in confusion. "You've hidden things, evaded my questions, destroyed evidence..." She trailed off uncertainly.

Turning, he took a small step closer. He could feel the warmth from her body. "And your conclusion is that I must be guilty. Never considered any other possibility."

"I have considered every other possibility. But you give me nothing. What am I meant to think?"

"You're meant to think that the Gene Hunt you know would never harm his own. That I would protect Sam Tyler until the day he died, and beyond. You're meant to trust me."

He loomed over her now, watching the emotions play across her features as the peices fell into place. "You're protecting him. Covering something up for him."

He took a deep breath. "Do you believe me? You trust that I would never have hurt Sam?" It seemed an eternity before she nodded, and he let go of the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.

She reached a hand to his lapel, leaning a little into him. "I'm sorry." Her eyes were huge, staring up into his, watery pools of regret. She believed him. He wasn't sure why he was so certain, wasn't sure why it mattered so much, but there it was. He felt something tighten inside him.

He reached for the tumbler she was still holding, his fingers brushing the soft skin of her palm as he took it from her, and he heard the hitch of her breath. He bent to put the glass next to his on the table, rising with a small turn so that he was directly in front of her, close enough to see the pulse jumping at her throat. Her eyes were on his lips.

He became aware that his heart was pounding, that his was mind blank. Something slow was playing on the radio and he took her in hold, one hand at the small of her back, the other curling gently around her shoulder. "Dance with me."

She linked her arms around his waist, their bodies close but not touching, swaying in time with the music. He could feel her breath on his face, her hands moving beneath his jacket, smoothing a path across his back, a trail of flame in their wake.

Her nose brushed his cheek and he closed his eyes, instinct taking over as he angled his head towards hers. The lingered for a moment, lips barely apart, before he closed the tiny gap and captured her mouth with his.

It was the softest of kisses, nothing more than a brush of the lips, but it drew the breath from his body. She was trembling in his arms. He pulled her closer.

Snaking his tongue across her lips, inside her mouth, he tasted her sweetness and couldn't hold back the groan. Her arms were wrapped tight around him now, her body arched into his, the fullness of her breasts hard against his chest. He traced a hand across her bottom, soft and round, and urged her against him. He was already so hard he ached.

Pulling away, he rested his forehead against hers as he fought for breath. "Bolly," he growled, a question in his eyes. She nodded and smiled, sliding her hands across his shoulders, pushing his jacket to the floor.

There were no more questions after that. He lifted her jersey top over her head, smoothing his hands over her ribcage, feeling her breathing as he touched her. She was wearing some little stripey thing underneath and he slipped his hands beneath it, expecting to find a bra. When he encountered bare flesh he was almost undone, her nipples pebbling hard against his fingertips as she gasped into his mouth.

She drew away for a moment to pull off the top, leaving her naked from the waist up, and she watched in fascination as he palmed her breasts, thumbs swiping across the peaks, pinching, pulling until she could take no more. Her own hands grew busy with his shirt buttons, pushing fabric aside, seeking access to the plains and contours of his body.

Bending his head to her shoulder, he kissed a trail from her collarbone to one taut nipple, taking the bud in his mouth, rolling it against his teeth, sucking hard, smiling against the ripe flesh as he heard her moan. He dropped to his knees, hands at her waistband, pulling off her leggings, taking her socks with them. Hooking his fingers into the scrap of lace at her hips, he drew her knickers slowly down, allowing them to pool at her feet before she kicked them away. He paused for a moment to enjoy the view, the scent of her invading his nostrils, his mind, and he closed his eyes as he breathed her in.

Nudging her knees apart with his shoulder, he placed a kiss on the inside of her thigh, then sucked gently, licked a path that went higher and higher. She placed a steadying hand on his shoulder as he reached his target, moaning as he flicked his tongue along her folds, crying out as he took her nub between his lips.

He drew away for a moment and she took a step back, sinking down onto the sofa, her legs apart as he kneeled between them. His tongue swirled around her, dipping in and out, tasting her as she shook above him. Blood coursed through him as the scent and feel of her drove him on, his hands now joining his tongue, fingers slipping inside, thrusting gently, her hips squirming as she sought her release.

She was close, he could tell, and he sucked on her clit, his fingers buried deep within her as she clenched around him, crying his name as she flew over the edge. He gave her a moment before working his way up alongside her, taking her head in his hands and capturing her lips in a deep, slow kiss.

Her eyes fluttered open, dark and warm, and she smiled at him, slow at first, then wicked as she reached for his belt buckle. "Your turn, DCI Hunt."

She eased down his trousers and shorts, wriggling to give him room to kick them away, then urged him onto his back on the sofa, straddling him as she stared down at his thick, hard cock. She licked her lips and he groaned, then groaned again as she lowered her head to him, swirling her tongue around his tip. Holding him firmly at the base she took him deep into her throat, her tongue pressing against his impressive length, and just when he thought she wouldn't be able to take any more he felt her take him deeper.

He swore as she worked him, her hands at his balls, the sensitive spot between them and his arse, her mouth around his cock, her tongue getting into places he hadn't even known existed. He couldn't take much more.

Taking hold of her shoulders, he pulled her up to him, flipping her onto her back, raining kisses onto her lips, her face, her neck. He settled himself between her legs, his cock pushing at her. Desperate with need, but hazily aware of needing her enjoyment too, he gazed down at her as he tilted his hips, driving slowly into her, watching her face as he finally claimed possession.

She felt hot and tight around him and he nearly lost control as a wave of pleasure crashed over him. Gritting his teeth, he took it slowly, pushing deep inside her, nuzzling kisses at her throat, his fingers at her nipples, brushing across the bundle of nerves between her legs. Her hands gripped his shoulders, holding tight as she met his hips thrust for thrust, urging him further, mumbling words of desire and encouragement. She sounded filthy. It made him dizzy.

He felt her tense and cry out and then shudder beneath him, her fingers grasping hard then releasing as she flopped back against the sofa, her legs now wrapped loosely around his back. With a final thrust he allowed himself to follow, flooding into her, pushing into her again and again until there was nothing left to give. His senses were on fire as he collapsed on top of her. What had she done to him?

Muffling his face against her shoulder, catching his breath, he felt as though his world had tilted. He risked a glance at her face and was relieved to see she was smiling. Shuffling onto his side, he flung an arm over her and dropped a gentle kiss on her lips. "Well, Bolly," he murmured. "I hope you enjoyed the ride."

She considered for a moment, then nodded. "I might come again."

He grinned. "Count on it." Tugging her gently from the sofa, he led her upstairs to his room, then held her against his chest until he was sure she was asleep. He'd tell her tomorrow about Sam. She trusted him. He'd tell her everything.

~ X ~

**The end**


End file.
